Dawn was slowly breaking, painting the skies of Amestricy with shades of orange and gold. Dwalgik’s workshop was silent, a stark contrast to the previous days, which had been filled with commotion and curious visitors eager to hear about Hitory’s battle against the bandits. Now, the stillness seemed to reflect the young man’s thoughts. He had woken up early, his body still sore, but his spirit restless. Something inside him called out, an almost instinctive urge to move forward and seek answers.
As he walked through the narrow corridors of the workshop, his fingers lightly brushing against the hanging blades, Hitory felt torn. What had awakened inside him was frightening, yet also intriguing. The figure that had surrounded him during the battle against the bandits was not something ordinary. He knew that, even though he couldn’t explain how. It was something ancient, something different. But what exactly?
The memory of the ruins in the forest kept coming back. The inscriptions on the stones, the fleeting glow when he touched them... all of it seemed connected to what he felt during the fight. He needed to find out more. The weight of the mystery made him yearn for knowledge, but he knew he wouldn’t find answers in Amestricy.
At the kitchen table, Dwalgik sat with a cup of tea in his hands, watching his son’s movements. When Hitory finally spoke, his voice was resolute.
— “Father, I need to go to the Capital of Valonia.” — He paused, breathing deeply before continuing.
— “I need to understand what happened to me. I need to know what this thing means and how I can use it. If I don’t do this, I won’t be able to fulfill my promise.”
Dwalgik was silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the young man. He saw the determination in his son’s eyes, a flame he recognized — the same one Zelia, Hitory’s mother, always carried.
— “If this is what you believe is right, then go,” — Dwalgik replied. — “But know that the Capital is a ruthless place. You won’t just find answers there; you’ll find challenges. It will be a lonely journey, Hitory.”
With a nod, Hitory prepared to leave. He strapped a simple sword to his waist and packed a bag with basic provisions. Before leaving, his father grabbed his shoulder.
— “Take this.” — Dwalgik handed him a small amulet in the shape of a pendant, a polished piece of metal with a blue stone in the center. — “It belonged to your mother. It may not look like much, but she always said it gave her strength. Maybe it will do the same for you.”
Hitory held the amulet carefully, feeling the calm energy it emanated. For a moment, he was silent, staring at the pendant in his hands. Then, he looked up at his father, a renewed determination in his eyes.
— “I promise I’ll come back home, father.” — His voice was firm, filled with emotion. — “I won’t fail you... or mom.”
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Dwalgik squeezed his son’s shoulder firmly, but said nothing more. His words weren’t needed. The look they exchanged said everything.
With the amulet around his neck and the promise echoing in his heart, Hitory turned and left, carrying more than just a bag and a sword — he also carried the weight of a new journey and the strength of the promise he had made.
The road to the Capital of Valonia was long and filled with uncertainties. Hitory walked through open fields, the wind brushing against his face as he adjusted his sword from time to time. Each step seemed to take him further from the safety of the city, but also closer to something new — something he couldn’t name yet.
In a small village along the way, he made a brief stop. The place was simple, but welcoming, with wooden houses and children running through the narrow streets. While resting in a local tavern, he overheard conversations about the growing tension in the kingdom. They spoke of powerful mages in the Capital and factions fighting for control of ancient knowledge.
— “These old grimoires only bring trouble,” — a man with a thick beard said to another at the counter.
— “The more they mess with those relics, the more bad things happen.”
Hitory listened in silence, but each word seemed to fuel his curiosity even more. He knew the ancient books could hold the answers he was seeking, but he also knew that tampering with old secrets always brought risks.
That night, while camping in a clearing, Hitory took out the notebook he always carried with him. He scribbled down his thoughts, trying to make sense of what he was feeling. He wrote:
“Echoes of Silence.”
That was what he felt inside — a quiet voice, but powerful, echoing in the silence of his mind. He knew he needed to listen to it, understand it, but what did it mean? Was it a call or a curse? As he looked at the stars, holding his mother’s amulet, he promised himself he wouldn’t give up.
On the third day of his journey, the weather changed. Gray clouds covered the sky, and the cold wind blew across the road. As he walked through a more desolate stretch, Hitory heard voices in the distance.
The full moon poured its silvery light over the silent clearing, except for distant sounds that disturbed the serenity of the night. The echo of a weak voice, almost choked, reached Hitory’s ears.
— “H-help... someone…” — the voice pleaded, laden with desperation.
Then, low muffled groans broke the silence. Hitory’s heart raced, and he quickly advanced down the trail until he reached the source of the sound. As he approached the scene, his breath became heavy, and his anger began to boil.
End of EP 3: Echoes of Silence